


Colourblind

by wyntre



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 15:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20293645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntre/pseuds/wyntre
Summary: Save yourself, I'm not worth the timeThis failure is built deep into my design





	Colourblind

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to [Colorblind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jd4Q_j42cpg) by Movements and got sad.

_ He Falls.  _

In his dreams he always Falls. 

_ TIme and again; plummeting towards, and through Earth. His glinting wings, ink spilled across parchment, are torn off in the descent. Endless stardust becoming freckles as he tumbles down. He hits the ground, pushing himself up with his hands and sitting up onto his haunches. It’s cold. It’s always cold. He can smell sulphur and hear screams. He tries to stretch his wings but only finds pain; he reaches behind him to feel the points where his wings had once attached and comes away with dark red. A sob is wrenched from deep within his gut.  _

* * *

_ A young angel; sent to Earth to guard the first humans, finds feathers and a trail of blood that stops abruptly at a crack in the ground. He runs plump fingers over the remnants of wings, still pulsing with unspent Grace and Divinity. He feels goodness there. This angel hadn’t meant to fall. He wonders aloud who the wings had belonged to, and collects the bloodied feathers into a pocket dimension and continues on his mission to Eden - where he meets a serpent who talks of apples and temptations.  _

* * *

“Leave. I’m not worth the effort. I’m unforgivable.”   
_ Save yourself. _ _   
_ _ I’m not worth the time.  _

A pair of blue eyes look up at him pleadingly.  _ Don’t leave me here alone, Crowley. _

Crowley wrenches free from the hand on his arm.    
“Leave. I’ll only hurt you.”

* * *

Aziraphale’s fingers map the scars on Crowley’s back. Crowley recoils from the gentle touch as if burned.    
_ Breathe in.  _ _   
_ _ Breathe out.  _

“I found your wings the day you Fell.”   
Crowley says nothing, curling in on himself - trembling and choking back sobs. Aziraphale simply holds him, and lets him cry. 

* * *

_ He Falls.  _

In his dreams he always Falls. 


End file.
